


Falling Stars

by MelancholyMy



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: M/M, Stars, daft love, daft punk - Freeform, daft slash, daftlove, daftslash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelancholyMy/pseuds/MelancholyMy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the first day of every year, Thomas would be happy again. Even if it was just for a short while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a dream I've been having frequently. (Re-posted it because I wanted to fix some stuff and because I'm trash :))))) Please enjoy :)))

Thomas was never a fan of fireworks; especially during New Years Day. The loud and obnoxious bursts of color would always block his view. So, he would sit on the rooftop of the tallest building in Paris where even the most loudest and brightest of fireworks couldn’t reach him.

On the first day of every year, Thomas would receive a long awaited message from his love from above. Every year, as the clock struck midnight, and all of Europe would go crazy with their hugs and cheers, celebrating the start of a new year, he would sit alone and pay no attention. Every year, as everyone would watch the millions of fireworks go off at once, he would see only that one, wonderful star that fell free from the night sky.

On the first day of every year, Thomas would be happy again. Even if it was just for a short while.

The messaging star flew down, straight towards him. Thomas felt a slight pinch in his chest at the sight of it, but chose to ignore it. It whipped around his head playfully, the wind from it tousling his curly brown hair into a tangled mess. In mock irritation, he huffed as he tried to smooth down his hair, to no avail. It gradually drifted downward to circle his tall and slender figure, causing him to laugh and spin in circles, watching it fly.

Thomas paused to catch his breath, and admired the star for a moment before calling his name out softly. “Guillaume,” he breathed. “Come here.” He couldn’t wait any longer, it’s been far too long since Thomas had heard his voice, and even longer since Thomas had actually _seen_ him.

The white star slowed to a gradual stop in front of him, and he cupped both hands beneath it, the star glowing gently. It radiated a comforting warmth that felt nice in his cold fingers. He then held it close to his ear, holding his breath in anticipation. And every year, Guillaume would whisper the same thing, his voice low, and smooth like silk.

_“...I missed you.”_

A small whimper escaped Thomas’ lips when he felt his heart ache painfully in his chest. He could feel himself being put back together from all those long and lonely nights, hugging himself, wishing that this one night would arrive sooner. Another stab to the heart made him take a sharp intake of breath. Like stitching up a wound without any anesthesia, it repaired itself, slow and agonizing.

A broken smile formed on Thomas’ face, a mix of happy and sorrowful tears threatening to spill. He closed his eyes and put the star close to his lips and kissed it gently, quick and sweet. A nice warmth spread through him, from his lips, flushing to his cheeks and his neck, down his spine to the tips of his toes. He shivered, and whispered to the messaging star, keeping his voice as low as possible.

“I missed you too.” His voice cracked. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

He kissed it again before softly blowing it away and off his hands. The star floated up gracefully, almost like a bubble, high into the air until you could no longer see it. As soon as Thomas lost sight of it, another one floated down. And another, and another, until there were about twenty surrounding him, waiting patiently for Thomas to listen. He walked up to one and leaned in close.

_“I’m sorry I left.”_ One said, and it slowly floated back up.

_“I love you, Thomas.”_ Another said. Up, up, up.

_“I’m so sorry.”_ Like a bubble.

_“I’ll find a way to actually see you. One day. I promise.”_

__

_“I’m sorry.”_

__

_“I’m sorry.”_

__

_“I love you.”_

__

_“I’m sorry.”_

__

Thomas shook his head, trying to get rid of the sudden flashbacks of that night. Sirens. Flashing lights. Wrecked cars. Blood. _So much blood._ “Stop apologizing.” He gently scolded, trying his best to not think about it again. “It wasn’t your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for, silly. ” He playfully added, trying to lighten up.

_“Well…”_ Thomas could hear a smile in his voice. _“I’m sorry anyway.”_

The two moved onto better subjects, like how Thomas was doing in his first year of university, or what it was like for William up there, (to which he would never answer, only saying that it was nice, and that he was doing alright) and every now and then, Guillaume would say something that would make Thomas spit out unintelligible syllables and go red. The hard concrete was starting to make his butt hurt, so he resorted to laying on his back with his hands behind his head, admiring the full moon, fully relaxed and genuinely happy.

Eventually, after hours of talking, when the sun just started to peek out from the horizon, and the moon was almost completely wiped from the sky, would their voices start to fade. Every message sent and received would be harder and harder to hear. A dreadful sign that it was time to say good-bye.

Thomas was the first to panic. “Guillaume…!” He was sitting up now, his eyes were wide as he watched the sunrise. The day was starting much too fast for his liking. “Did you mean what you said?” He quickly asked, turning his attention to the star in his hands, cradling it. “About finding a way to see each other again, I mean. Do you _promise_?”

_“I promise, Thomas. I’ll find a way.”_ The star quivered slightly as Guillaume spoke. It has lost its luster now, so what was once a bright and beautiful ball of light was now a mush of dull grey. _“I love you. I promise. I lov-”_ Guillaumes voice wavered and cut short at the end.  Thomas watches in horror as the star vanishes into nothing, right before his very eyes.

In an instant, he was gone. Like flipping a light switch, he was gone.

And every year, the cycle repeats.

 


End file.
